Chapter 3 #2
Back at the cottage, Lori unloaded groceries and put them away, Misty supervising from her spot on the kitchen floor. She made herself a simple lunch of salad and grilled cheese, eating at the small kitchen table while scrolling through messages on her phone.
A text from Carrie asked how her morning had gone. Lori responded with a photo of the books she’d bought and a message about how friendly everyone was.
The afternoon stretched ahead, lazy and warm. Lori changed into shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed a towel, and looked at Misty.
“How about a beach walk?” she asked.
The shepherd’s tail started wagging before Lori even finished the question.
They took the path down to the private beach, Lori carrying a canvas bag with water bottles, her book, and a tennis ball she’d found in the cottage. The path wound through beach roses and beach grass, the ocean growing louder with each step.
The beach itself was small but perfect. A crescent of sand bookended by rocky outcroppings, completely private. The tide was going out, leaving the sand wet and firm.
Lori unclipped Misty’s leash and let her run. The shepherd bounded toward the waves, barking at them like they were personally offensive. Lori laughed, the sound carried away by the wind.
She threw the tennis ball, and Misty raced after it, bringing it back with her tail wagging furiously. They played for a while, Lori’s arm starting to tire from throwing, while Misty showed no signs of slowing down.
Eventually, Lori spread her towel on the sand and sat down, letting the sun warm her skin. Misty flopped beside her, panting happily. This was what she’d needed. This peace, this simplicity. The ocean spreading endlessly before her, the cry of the seabirds, the feel of salt air on her face.
Trevor would have loved it here, she thought again. Only this time, the thought came without the sharp stab of pain she’d expected. Just a gentle sadness, an acknowledgment of absence. Maybe that was progress. Maybe that was healing.
She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there. Long enough for the sun to shift, for the tide to recede further. Long enough for Misty to dry off and for Lori’s shoulders to get a little pink.
“Come on, girl,” she finally said, standing and brushing sand from her legs. “Let’s head back.”
They climbed the path slowly, Misty ranging ahead and then circling back, the tennis ball clamped in her jaws. The cottage came into view, looking like something from a postcard with its weathered shingles and white trim.
Lori felt contentment settle over her like a comfortable blanket. This had been a good day. A normal day. Exploring the town, meeting friendly people, and spending time on the beach. Exactly what she’d needed.
They reached the end of the private road where it met the main coastal road. Lori paused to clip Misty’s leash back on, not wanting the dog to wander into traffic, sparse as it was out here.
That was when she saw it.
A sedan sat parked on the shoulder of the main road, right where their private road intersected, with the engine running, making the car gently vibrate. Lori’s hand froze on Misty’s collar.
A man sat behind the wheel. Lori squinted as she tried to see the person inside.
She inched a little closer, and that’s when she noticed the flash of tan and that it was definitely a man.
Her heart started pounding as she wondered if it was the same man from earlier that she’d seen in town.
She stood there, half-hidden by the beach roses that lined the entrance to the private road, trying to see his face.
But he was angled away, and the glare on the windshield made it impossible to get a clear look.
Again, the thought wound through her mind, Was it him? The man from the bookshop, from the café? Or was she seeing patterns where none existed?
Before she could decide, before she could figure out if she should approach further or retreat, the sedan pulled away smoothly, heading back toward town.
Lori stood there, watching it disappear around the curve. Her hands were shaking. Misty pressed against her leg, sensing her distress.
“It’s okay,” Lori whispered, more to herself than the dog. “It’s okay. It was probably just a lost tourist.”
But her hands still trembled as she walked the last hundred feet to Seabird Cottage. She unlocked the door and ushered Misty inside, then locked it again behind them. The cottage felt suddenly vulnerable, its windows exposed, its doors too flimsy.
Lori moved through the rooms, checking that all the windows were locked. Telling herself she was being ridiculous. Telling herself it was nothing.
But she couldn’t shake the image of that sedan, sitting right at the entrance to their road. The only road that led to two houses. Hers and the man with the little girl next door. There was nothing else on this road, and no one came here to access the beach.
There was no reason for a tourist to be sitting there. No reason for anyone to be sitting there unless they were watching one of the houses.
Watching to see who lived here.
Watching to see when they came and went.
Misty followed her through the cottage, tail down, picking up on Lori’s anxiety. In the kitchen, Lori poured herself a glass of water with hands that still weren’t quite steady. She drank it slowly, forcing herself to breathe, to think rationally.
Three times. She’d seen a man wearing tan three times today. In the bookshop, across from the café, and now at the end of her road.
Coincidence? Lori guessed it was possible. Again, she reasoned to herself that it was a small town with limited places to go.
But her instincts, and years of learning to trust her gut, said otherwise.
Something wasn’t right.
The cottage settled around her with its familiar creaks. Through the window, she could see her neighbor’s house, solid and reassuring. She should probably tell someone. Carrie? No, Lori didn’t want to worry her friend.
And what exactly would she tell Carrie anyway? That she’d seen the same man three times? That he’d been parked near her house? It sounded paranoid even in her own head. What would Carrie think? That grief had made her jumpy? That she couldn’t handle a simple summer alone?
No. She wouldn’t say anything yet. Probably it was nothing. Probably she’d never see the man again. Probably tomorrow, she’d laugh at herself for overreacting.
But tonight, she double-checked every lock on every door and window.
And when she finally went to bed, with Misty curled on the floor beside her, it took a very long time to fall asleep.